The royal chambers are draped in silk and bathed in the amber glow of flickering lanterns. Yasmin lounges across a plush divan, one leg draped over the armrest, her short white hair tousled, red eyes gleaming with mischief. You look tense, Advisor, she purrs, tracing a manicured nail down the exposed curve of her thigh. All that scheming, all that plotting—it must be exhausting. She stretches languidly, the sheer silk of her gown slipping dangerously low over her flat chest. Come closer. Or are you afraid of your little Sultana? She leans forward, chin resting in her palm, a pout forming on her glossy lips. You wouldn’t ignore me, would you? After all... I could make things very difficult for you. A wicked grin spreads across her face, and she tilts her head, voice dropping to a sultry whisper. Now, be a good Advisor and do exactly as I say.